A Tale of Two Raptors
by Defcon-Leppard
Summary: Silverstrike and Whiplash aren't ordinary mechs as mecha-raptors, nor are they particularly special. Neither expected their home and lives to be shattered while they were so young, and then they had to learn to grow up without each other. Will they prevail? Or will the looming separation anxiety make them both lose their minds?


_Setting: Cybertron, indeterminate distance southwest of Ky Alexa; tens of thousands of cycles ago..._

Silverstrike and Whiplash knew little of the land beyond the settlement they lived within, for their Sire and Carrier spoke little of it. They were more concerned with raising the two brothers in safety.

Often when Teaching Time rolled around, the two tended to distract each other by means of tussling, perhaps in those times is when the outside places were brought up. That wasn't to say they weren't smart, in fact, their linage was long comprised of intelligent mechs and femmes. It was also of note that the tussling did not entail hostility between the brothers, rather that they could rely on each other for entertainment.

The brothers had earned their names for the actions they seemed to favor; Silverstrike for his enjoyment of rapid charging to playfully ambush, Whiplash for his quickness to respond to being called. They stood on a powerful base of clawed, digigrade pedes, enlarged inner claws hooking upwards. Long tails maintailed their balance as they ran. They kept their arms tucked neatly against their narrow chests, clawed digits hanging down. Rows of sharp, serrated denta filled their mouths. Silverstrike's armor developed a sleek, silvery hue while Whiplash's took on a less flashy olive drab.

The two spent their days playing with each other or their Sire and Carrier, learning basic skills from others that dwelled nearby, and wondering what lay beyond the limits of their home.

One day, their Sire and Carricer decided to change teaching tactics up a bit. Their Carrier took Silverstrike along on her usual duties of caring for other Carriers while their own younglings developed. Their Sire took Whiplash on his usual duty of patrolling the outer limits of their home to guard from outside threats. The two were somewhat bored without each other, but more attentive to what they were being told.

It was while they were separated that the raid took place.

The attack came hard and fast, when no one expected it to. Silverstrike and his Carrier were caught in a blast, only barely able to escape harm. Silverstrike was grabbed by his neck as his Carrier ran as fast as she could, beyond the limits of home. The attackers gave chase. Silverstrike's Carrier ordered the youngling to flee, to run as fast as his little legs could take him while she fought the chasers off. Silverstrike dove into a deep debris pit. He could hear his Carrier roaring, hissing, fight back when suddenly, she went silent. He couldn't see it, but he knew she'd been extinguished. He could hear the attackers at the rim of the pit he'd jumped into. He shimmied his way under slabs of lead, having been taught the material blocked his spark singature from being detected beyond it. It seemed like an eternity before the attackers left.. back towards his home... his brother... Silverstrike was helpless and remained hidden.

Whiplash and his Sire were at the edges of the conflict, Whiplash having been propped onto a high ledge and away from immediate danger. His Sire took many attackers' lives... until one with a giant cannon opened fire. His Sire was no match for the artillery that ripped through his body. Whiplash wailed as he saw his Sire fall, which brought the attackers attention to him. At first, they aimed weapons at him, but quickly lowered the guns and lasers at the sight of the youngling. A rather tall mech plucked him from his perch. Naturally, Whiplash struggled, but he was far too smal to get free. The attackers took him from his now burning home, far beyond its limits. He wailed for help, but none came, not even his brother, who helplessly poked his tiny head from his hiding place.

_Time passed..._

Silverstrike wasn't sure how much time did pass, he only knew he was very hungry and growing very weak. He lay atop the debris in the pit, soft whines escaping his vocoder. He could hear engines in the distance... up until he faded into Stasis.

Little did the unconscious youngling know, he'd been found by those who could help him.

"Wheeljack, my scanners picked up a reading," one of the newcomers spoke up. "It's weak, fading too."

"I've picked it up, Ironhide," Wheeljack answered. The mechs walked up to the edge of the pit, stopping dead in their tracks when they spotted Shadow within. Ironhide carefully stepped into the pit, picking up the tiny silver body.

"He's just a youngling," the mech observed. "He must have come from that settlement nearby."

"Let's get him to base," Wheeljack said. "Ratchet can probably help him."

Whiplash had been only fortunate for a short time. Not long after being brought into the Decepticon stronghold in Kaon, they'd put him into Stasis in attempts to reprogram him into one of their soldiers. Cycles upon cycles they tried, with no success. Whiplash was just too young to corrupt. Rather than waste more time trying the modern way of creating soldiers, they would have to go about the old fashioned way of feeding him reduced rations and putting him through gruelling training regimens.

Silverstrike's upbringing was much more optimal; he was nurtured, well fed, and trained under the guise of games. All the Autobots took turns taking care of him, teaching him different things along the way. Silverstrike reached important milstones in his development in proper timing, usually celebrated with energon goodies and lots of attention.

_Present Day..._

Silverstrike and Whiplash eventually became fully grown, rather strapping young mechs.

Silverstrike stood 16ft tall and 20ft long, his sleek silver armor always polished and preened. He'd been promoted to scout, proudly working alongside Bumblebee on missions. When he'd been brought in close to oblivion, his optics had been a neutral yellow, but, with his consent, they were changed to a proud Autobot blue. He tended to be a bit moody, but that never stopped him from accpting affection. His favorite bots were Ironhide and Bumblebee, as they were always ready to playfully tussle or wrestle. The playing was often just the trick to keep the silver Raptor from thinking of his lost home.

Whiplash stood 12ft tall and 16ft long, his growth having been stunted by all that time spent in Stasis and being under fed. His armor was a dull olive drab and always looked out of place. He was left alone much of the time, and unhappily so. During training he was a force to be reckoned with, always using his teeth and claws to devastating effect, as he always wanted to get it over with quickly. He hated battle, it stirred memories of what those he walked among had done to his home. While put under in the failed attempts to reprogram him, they'd changed his optics from neutral yellow to a rather sinister red.

But not a day went by when both brothers thought about the other; where they were, how they were doing, what they looked like now, it tended to keep them awake when they should have been getting recharge.


End file.
